I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell (Review)

Max Tucker's book makes for a pathetic movie

This title has plagued bookstore tables the past few years with its cheekily lewd cover sticking its tongue out at browsers. I have to admit to being one of the suckers lured into picking it up and flipping through it just to see if it might live down to its expectations.

I can’t say I ever had the desire to spend much time with the printed words, so imagine my surprise (horror, actually) when I discovered a movie had been made from the book. What could be easier than sitting back and wasting a couple of hours in this format?

It’s too bad, though, that the time spent with the thoroughly amoral Tucker Max (the author and screenwriter) and his on-screen doppleganger (Matt Czuchry) felt like a retread of the summer romp The Hangover, with Max taking over the role of all the groomsmen at once like a volcanic, misogynistic weapon of mass self-destruction capable of near instantaneous phoenix-like ascension from his own ashes.

Of course, none of the cheap beer-driven exploits, either Max’s or the lame and lumbering misadventures of his insignificant buddies (Jesse Bradford’s playa-hating videogame gnome or Geoff Stults’ earnest groom), matter because the situations aren’t engaging and Max, even at the moment of his perfectly designed comeuppance, never becomes a character worthy of our sympathies. He’s just a hell-bound heat-seeker unable to quench his depraved thirsts. Grade: F

Opens Oct. 2. Check out theaters and show times, see the film's trailer and get theater details here.

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